Still Wintering
- Mel Watts~ Artspire Therapy
- Feb 13
- 2 min read
Updated: Feb 13
A Poetic Blog Post
Some days the sun comes out
bright and golden,
as if the world is saying,
“Wake up — life is beautiful.”
Windows open.
Shoes on.
Go, go, go.
And everyone else seems ready.
But my nervous system says,
“Nope… I’m still wintering.”
Still slow.
Still tender.
Still craving soup, sweaters, quiet corners…
snuggles in bed wrapped up in blankets and pillows
a little cocoon of warmth and cozy
where nothing is expected of me.
The light feels like too much today.
Even beautiful things can feel like a lot
when your head is pounding
and your body is whispering,
“not yet… go gently.”
It’s funny —
because the sun is usually the thing that fuels me,
fills me up,
pulls me outside and back to myself.
Most days it’s medicine.
But today it feels like my arch nemesis —
sharp and piercing,
layering pain on top of pain.
So I’ll just adore it from afar.
A behind-the-curtains kind of day.
Not resisting joy.
Just pacing my energy.
A difference that’s easy to miss.
Some days parenting looks big, bright, and adventurous.
Other days it’s unrelenting —
dividing the overwhelm,
tag-teaming to make things work.
Birthday parties.
Swim lessons.
Divide and conquer.
Who’s with who?
Who’s driving?
Who’s got snacks?
The meal prep? The laundry?
Who’s got the dogs?
We’re all in such a hurry.
Can we move slower?
Enjoy the journey?
Not miss the moments as they pitter-patter by?
And sometimes the only outside I get
is letting the dog out to pee.
Today?
Soccer kicks in the muddy yard.
Running with the boys and Effie.
Dodging “poop pancakes” in the grass
so they don’t end up on everyone’s shoes —
because, oops… we forgot to clean them all.
Messy.
Real.
Still love.
And that counts too.
Migraine days don’t need magic.
They need softness.
Snack plates.
Lowered expectations.
Teamwork.
A gentler rhythm.
I’m learning from my partner to take more breaks —
accepting myself for where I’m at,
setting aside the guilt,
little resets between the laundry, meal planning, organizing, cleaning.
Move a bit.
Rest a bit.
Then move again.
A bit.
Turns out we’re actually more productive this way.
It’s not laziness.
It’s honesty.
It’s listening.
Living in tune with reality.
Because some days my 40%
is my 100%.
It’s what I have.
It’s the best I have.
And that is okay.
Because remember yesterday?
That was 125%.
Healing doesn’t always look like blooming.
Sometimes it looks like bone broth simmering,
laundry humming,
dogs at your feet — or in your lap —
choosing not to push.
Like Effie and Tuko do so naturally.
They rest when they’re tired.
Play when they’re ready.
No guilt.
No questioning.
Just trust.
The same thing I teach my kids.
The same thing I remind families.
Now remembering to offer it to myself.
So today I’m choosing slow.
Choosing warm.
Choosing enough.
I am enough.
I did enough.
Today, this is enough.
Spring will come.
It always does.
For now,
I’ll let the light find me softly.
And if this lands,
may it be your reminder
to meet yourself gently on your journey too.
With love,
Mel Watts
—
Artspire Therapy | gentle reminders
